


don't let your mind redial

by delightfulalot



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, Genderswap, cisgirl Harry Styles, cisgirl Nick Grimshaw, cisgirl Zayn Malik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightfulalot/pseuds/delightfulalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry falls into a friends-with-benefits relationship with her best friend, louis, but she keeps finding herself drawn to tall, gorgeous, cool nick grimshaw, head dj at the university radio station where she's an intern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't let your mind redial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rumpledlinen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledlinen/gifts).



> this is for [jasmine](http://guillotineheart.tumblr.com), who gave me most of the nick grimshaw feelings i've ever had, and like two months ago said, "the next step is getting you to write nick/harry!" to which my response was, "ha, yeah, don't think so." AND HERE WE ARE. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY OR SOMETHING I GUESS. 
> 
> absolutely nothing could have happened without [julie](http://syrettes.tumblr.com), who told me all the radio 1 people i could include, talked to me about this EVERY DAY, and regularly read everything new i'd written while we were both kind of live-tweeting the breakfast show every night. SHE EVEN WROTE A FEW PARAGRAPHS, SHE'S AMAZING. 
> 
> this is completely different from what i originally thought it would be, but it all worked out in the end!! title is a misheard line from haim's the wire, TOO PERFECT FOR ME NOT TO USE IT.

Harry is fifteen minutes early to her first day interning at the university radio station. Which is fine, good even, except it’s quarter ’til six in the fucking morning and the place is locked, the blinds on its big plate glass windows all shut. Harry sinks down onto the stone step in front of it, sipping tea from her travel mug and picking at the hole in the knee of her skinny jeans. Her new friend Aimee — all of Harry’s friends are new, actually, a side effect of starting university in a place where she doesn’t know anyone — keeps pushing her to wear something, _anything_ , different. Aimee is from New York and always looks like she stepped off a runway, so Harry usually lets her dress her however she wants, but she had to get up before the sun today, so she’s just in her standard skinnies and white v-neck tee, plaid button-down pulled over on her way out the door for warmth. The one thing she forgot to do today was grab a scarf or something to keep her hair back; her unruly curls keep falling into her face. 

She picks at the hole in her jeans for exactly twelve minutes, and then there’s a shadow of someone standing over her and she looks up and — 

She’s _tall_ , probably taller than Harry, but instead of wearing it awkwardly, all gawky arms and legs, she looks smooth and well put-together. She’s in shiny black leggings that hug her in all the right places and her legs are _gorgeous_ and long and Harry sweeps her gaze up over them, over her possibly ironic Ke$ha concert tee with the collar cut off and drooping dangerously low under a very warm-looking grey hoodie and leather jacket, and up to her face. She’s got short hair pushed up into a very tall quiff, and is wearing aviator sunglasses and a slight frown. She takes a sip from the Starbucks cup in one hand — fitting her mouth perfectly over the bright red lipstick already staining the edge — and then a drag from the cigarette in the other before asking, “Who’re you then?” 

Harry is a little bit in awe. 

She scrambles to her feet, dusting off her bum with one hand and reaching out to shake this woman’s hand with the other before she realizes she’s still holding her travel mug. 

“I’m — sorry,” she says, and she can feel her cheeks heating up as she switches her mug to the other hand. “I’m Harry, I’m the new intern?” 

The woman raises her eyebrows but shakes Harry’s hand, giving her the once-over. “I guess you’ll do,” she says with just a little bit of a sigh, and Harry bristles, but then: “Is Finchy not here yet?”

“No?” Harry asks rather than tells, and the woman shrugs and bangs on the window in the door with her fist. Almost immediately it’s pulled open by a man who glares at the woman; she beams at him. 

“Shhhh,” he hisses at her; she kisses his cheek. 

“G’morning, dearest,” she says. She takes a final drag off her cigarette and gestures to Harry with her head. “This is our new intern.” 

“Ah, Harry Styles, right? I’m Matt Fincham,” the man says, shaking Harry’s hand before scrubbing at the lipstick mark on his cheek with his other hand. 

The woman snorts. “Harry Styles, huh? Porn name or rock star name?”

“Er. Real name?” 

Matt shoots the woman a disapproving look. “Please don’t scare the intern, Nick, we’ve only got one this semester.” 

The woman — Nick — shrugs. “If she’s good enough, she won’t let a little teasing get in her way.”

“No!” Harry rushes to say, and both Matt and Nick look at her. Matt’s got his eyebrows furrowed, looking concerned, while Nick just looks amused. “No, I mean — I’m okay with teasing,” she finishes, feeling her cheeks going red. 

“Good girl,” Nick says, ruffling Harry’s hair. She ducks out of it quickly, but — her cheeks definitely go redder. 

“What did I _just_ say?” Matt asks, exasperated, and Nick just grins, and then she flicks the ash off of her cigarette and puts out the smoldering end with two fingers before tucking it into her jacket pocket. Harry doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone cooler in her life. Matt sighs and turns around, heads back into the station, and Nick waggles her eyebrows at Harry and does the same. Harry practically trips over herself following them, and when she gets her first peek at the place she’s planning on spending most of the next semester, she has to stop and take a moment to take everything in.

It’s a small space, dark with all the blinds closed and crammed with records, tapes, CDs, and something that Harry thinks might be 8-tracks, which is almost too cool. Every wall she can see is plastered with concert fliers and band posters. There’s a little studio to the right, big plate glass window facing the rest of the station, and Harry knows she probably won’t be allowed in there as a first-year intern, but all she wants is to get her hands on the buttons and dials, strap on a pair of headphones and talk into that big microphone. 

“Good enough for ya?” Nick asks from right in front of the studio door, shaking Harry out of her reverie, smirk on her face. She’s taken off her jacket and hoodie and her shirt also has the arms cut off so it’s sleeveless, arm holes a little too wide, and Harry can see a flash of bright blue lace. 

“Looks absolutely _sick_ ,” Harry says, and Nick laughs, loud and a little raspy and Harry grins, always wants to make her laugh, never wants her to stop. 

—

Harry’s interning at the radio station as extra credit for her music theory class, easily her favorite one. She hasn’t declared a major yet, but if other music classes are as fun and interesting as this one, she could see herself doing this all through university. It’s also where she’s met most of her best friends — she and Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn were all assigned to a group together on their first day, working on their final project together. Normally Harry would be worried about it, but she immediately hit it off with everyone, so she has high hopes for her grades. 

In fact, they spend most of their time together during the first week of school not actually working on anything school or even really music related, just getting to know each other instead. That’s how Harry finds the four of them after her first day at the station, all piled on and around the couch in Louis’ place playing video games. Louis, as the oldest one of them, already has his own flat, a shitty studio just off campus. It’s a bit cramped with all five of them there, but none of them really shy away from physical affection, so it works out well. 

“Hey, there’s our radio star!” Louis exclaims when Harry comes in the door. Harry grins and sits on the arm of the couch next to Louis, leaning her body weight on him. He wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her upper arm, the closest part of her to his mouth. “How was your first day?” 

“ _Brilliant_ ,” Harry enthuses, ruffling Niall’s hair where he’s sitting on the floor in front of Louis, controller in his hand, and then, when he lets out an annoyed huff and reaches up to fix it (though it looks remarkably similar to how it looked when Harry got her hand into it), snagging his bag of crisps from his side. Liam, sitting next to Louis on the couch and watching the whole thing, raises his eyebrows at Harry, who just shakes her head and puts a finger to her mouth to shush him. Liam grins and looks back at the TV, where Zayn is beating Niall spectacularly in Super Mario Kart. As the rest of them watch, she wins and throws her controller to the ground and her arms up in the air in victory. 

“Eat it, Horan!” she yells, standing gracefully from her spot on the floor (in a short skirt without flashing any of them, no less) and he groans, reaches for his bag of crisps and finally notices they’re gone. 

“What the fuck,” he says, looking up to see Harry shoving a crisp in her mouth. She immediately pushes the bag away from her and points to Liam, who raises his hands in surrender. 

“I didn’t do it!” he says, and Niall just fake growls and pounces on Liam. It’s barely a second before Louis has launched himself on both of them, and then Harry catches Zayn’s eye and they both shrug before piling on top of their boys. 

The boys are yelling underneath them, grunting and pushing and shoving, but Zayn just knocks her head softly into Harry’s and asks, “Think it’s gonna be a good fit?” 

Harry nods, kneeing whoever is underneath her in what she thinks is his armpit; Niall groans loudly and elbows who is possibly Liam in the side. Zayn grins, moves her body weight off the boys just enough to drop it back down and make Louis let out a large _oof!_ They roughhouse for another few minutes until Liam manages to roll out from under the pile and onto the floor. Harry drops on top of him and sprawls out on her back. All five of them lay there for a minute, breathing hard, and then Niall starts laughing and suddenly they’re all laughing. 

Eventually, everyone else leaves. Liam gets a text from his girlfriend and leaves first; Zayn heads out not long after that saying she needs to study for a test the next day, and Niall practically leaps over the couch offering to walk with her. Harry raises her eyebrows at Zayn, who shrugs and nods, so she lets them leave. 

“I didn’t know that was happening,” she calls to Louis after the door shuts. Louis, who is digging in the fridge for something, just hums noncommittally. Harry skips over to him and drapes herself over his back, trying to see what he’s doing. “What are you up to?” she asks after a minute, and that’s when he stands up with two beers, grinning. 

“I had these buried in the vegetable crisper so Niall wouldn’t find them,” he explains, twisting the top off of one and handing it to Harry.

“Smart,” Harry says, smiling, and when Louis twists the top off his own bottle, he holds it up and says, “To lovely Harriet Styles —“

“—not my name —“

“—on the occasion of a successful first day of her internship, and to many more.” He knocks the neck of his beer against Harry’s, and they both drink. “So what was your first day really like?” 

Harry shrugs. “Fun,” she says, and it sounds so completely inadequate she makes a face at herself. “I mean. I basically only organized CDs and records and tapes but I got to watch while they put on a show and then, like, right before I left Nick let me introduce a song.”

“Aw, really?” Louis asks, and when Harry nods, he says, “I wish I’d known, I would’ve listened.” 

“Oh, you didn’t miss much.”

“I missed my best friend’s first time on the radio, that’s a lot! Was it really cool?” 

Harry bites her bottom lip against a grin, and then lets it go with a nod. 

“Right then, you’ve got to recreate it for me. What song was it?” He’s pulled out his phone and is scrolling through his music library.

“That’s _not_ necessary,” Harry protests, and Louis shakes his head. 

“It absolutely is! I can’t believe I missed you on the radio,” he finishes softly, and his eyes flick down to Harry’s lips. She licks them self-consciously, and then he’s kissing her. 

She kisses back without thinking about it, and then pulls away and says, “This doesn’t mean anything, right?” 

“Of course not,” Louis says, leaning in to kiss her again, and she smiles and says, “Good,” into his mouth. 

—

A month into the semester, Nick throws a party for everyone working at the radio station. She says it’s an annual tradition, welcoming everyone to the station for another year, but Harry’s been working there for three weeks and she feels like an actual welcome party should have happened before she’d, you know, met everyone. 

When she points this out to Nick, though, Nick just says, “For Christ’s sake, Styles, it’s just an excuse to get pissed and yell about music. Are you coming or not?” 

Harry grins and asks, “How many people can I bring?” 

“Bring as many as you want, I don’t care,” Nick says, “but if you bring that Tomlinson kid, you better have some sort of consolation prize for me, like a really fucking expensive bottle of vodka.” 

“Oh,” Harry says, and she can feel her cheeks pinking up. “Yeah, he’ll probably be there. He’s my best mate.” 

Nick makes a face, but it’s quick enough that Harry thinks she’s not actually meant to see it. Louis had shown up at the station earlier that week, and he and Nick had spent the entire time glaring at each other and trading thinly-veiled insults. Harry still wasn’t entirely sure _why_ ; she hadn’t had a chance to ask Nick about it, and when she’d tried to talk to Louis about it, Louis just made a face — almost exactly the same one Nick’s just pulled, actually — and changed the subject. And since he’d changed the subject by crowding against Harry on the couch, one hand in her hair and one hand trailing up her thigh, he’d been very successful at helping Harry to forget about it. 

“We’ll definitely bring some alcohol with us, though. I’ll make everyone bring something. Get you good and proper sloshed,” Harry continues, and Nick grins. 

“There’s a good girl, cheers,” she says, reaching over to pat Harry on the cheek. Harry smiles and leans into it, just a little bit. 

She doesn’t actually get worried about the party — Harry has always been sociable, always loved meeting new people, and she reckons she knows most everyone who’ll be there, anyway — until Nick calls out to her right as she’s leaving the Friday before, says, “Party tomorrow’s fancy dress, did I mention that? Just put on a nice dress or summat, wash your hair for once. None of these threadbare jeans or dirty curls,” waving her hand towards Harry, whose wardrobe hasn’t changed much since her first day at the station. Harry just looks down at the hole in the knee of her skinnies and nods. 

When she gets back to her dorm room, she opens the door to her closet and sighs. She doesn’t think she’s got anything that could even vaguely resemble fancy dress, so she reaches for her phone and texts Aimee. 

_can you stop by mine when you get a chance, please?_ After a few moments of thought, she adds _:D_ and signs off with _xx_. 

Almost immediately, Aimee texts back with _of course. anything wrong?_

 _Fashion emergency_ , she texts, adding two siren emojis, the lady in the red dress, and the fingernail painting one, and then, just for good measure, another three sirens. 

_Be right there with reinforcements._

Aimee is true to her word; she shows up at Harry’s room in twenty minutes, a garment bag over one arm and a bottle of vodka in the other hand. 

“Bless you,” Harry says, talking to Aimee but also probably mostly the vodka. She takes the bottle and pours some into two of her mugs while Aimee works her way through Harry’s closet. 

“What’s the emergency?” Aimee asks, pulling a plaid button-down with the sleeves cut off out of Harry’s closet and raising her eyebrows. “Besides this monstrosity.” 

“Hey,” Harry protests, handing Aimee her cup and reaching out to touch the shirt. “I like this one.” 

Aimee just looks at her, long enough that Harry finally grabs the shirt and buries it back in her closet, just so they can stop staring at it. 

“I’ve got a party tomorrow night. I’ve just been told it’s fancy dress, and it’s thrown by a graduate student and I’m sure everyone’s going to be _so much cooler_ than me.” 

She pulls out a beige sweater dress and holds it up to her body; Aimee shakes her head. Harry groans. 

“This is why I need you, I’m absolutely hopeless.” 

She sets her mug of vodka down on her bedside table carefully and then flings herself onto her bed, one arm thrown over her eyes. “Nick’ll never let me in if I bring Lou _and_ dress like the clueless first-year I am.” 

Harry suddenly notices that the sound of Aimee moving hangers around has stopped; she lowers her arm so she can see her. Aimee is looking over at Harry like she’s suddenly realized something. 

“Are you talking about Grimmy?” 

Harry props herself up on her elbows and nods before tipping her head to the side quizzically. “You know Nick?” 

“ _You’re_ the Harry that Finchy’s always teasing her about?”

“What?” 

“Finchy is forever talking about Nick’s girlfriend Harry. I didn’t know that was _you_.” 

And _that_ is entirely new information; Harry tries to sit up and somehow one of her elbows slips on the bed and she _flumps_ down onto her back and stares at her ceiling. Matt teases Nick about Harry being her girlfriend. Huh. Aimee walks over until she can lean into Harry’s eye line. 

“If you’re going to Nick’s welcome back to school party, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

Harry nods and lets Aimee pull her up, and they attack Harry’s closet. Aimee leaves after a few hours, both of them delightfully tipsy, and kisses Harry on the cheek and promises to see her the next day and that the outfit they picked out is absolutely perfect. Harry texts Nick before she goes to sleep, a quick _you probably won’t even recognize me tomorrow, i’ll be so glam_. 

Nick doesn’t text back, so Harry calls Lou, and he sounds sleepy and rumpled and she’s buzzed and horny so she asks, smirk probably audible in her voice, “What are you wearing?”

He sounds a lot more awake when he answers with a sly, “Just my pants and a smile.” 

He talks her through an orgasm, sends her a picture of his hard cock and she talks him through his before they hang up. She’s all prepared to go straight to sleep, boneless and sated, when she realizes she’s got a message on her phone. 

Nick’s texted back: _better not show up like an unwashed hipster now, styles, i’m expecting the best._

Harry grins, sends her sunhat, lipstick, and high heel emojis. Nick sends back a speak-no-evil monkey, and almost immediately after that, a face blowing kisses and a sleeping emoji. Harry sends back three different colors of hearts and falls asleep shortly after, a smile on her face. 

—

Zayn had been the only one excited when Harry’d texted the whole group, saying the party was fancy dress; all the boys had asked if that meant they’d had to wear a jacket, but Zayn had offered to come over and do Harry’s makeup, as long as she promised to help Zayn curl her hair. Harry had agreed whole-heartedly, so Zayn shows up at Harry’s in the early afternoon, toting her hot curlers and her giant makeup bag. Within two hours, Harry is completely made-up — smoky eyes, deep red lip stain, all her acne spots artfully hidden — and Zayn’s hair is full of curlers. They’re sitting cross-legged on Harry’s bed, trading a bottle of nail varnish and the rest of last night’s vodka back and forth. Harry hands the varnish back to Zayn, takes a sip of the vodka, and leans back against her pillows, eyes closed. 

“This is nice,” she says. 

Zayn just hums and then caps the varnish and lies back, head hanging over the end of Harry’s bed. They’re both quiet for a minute, listening to the radio — always tuned to the university station, like it has been since Harry started her internship — and then Zayn clears her throat and asks, just a little hesitantly, “Are you and Louis dating?” 

Harry frowns and opens her eyes, looking over at Zayn, who keeps her gaze on Harry’s desk, across from her bed. 

“Are you and Niall?” is all Harry can think to say, and she watches as Zayn smiles, small and fond. 

“I think so,” she says, moving so she can face Harry, propping her head up on her hand, carefully avoiding her wet nails. “I think I’d like to be, at least. He thinks we should just be friends with benefits or summat, doesn’t want to, like, ruin the group or whatever, but if you and Lou are dating…” She trails off and shrugs. 

“We’re not, though,” Harry says, dropping her head back on her pillows, looking up at the ceiling. “I mean, we’re definitely sleeping together, and he’s my best mate, but I don’t. I don’t love him like that, really.” 

Zayn’s quiet, and eventually Harry has to look back up at her. She’s just looking straight at Harry, no expression on her face. “Does he know that?” 

Harry nods, sure of it without even bothering to think about it. “It doesn’t mean anything. I asked him when we first started up.” 

Zayn just raises her eyebrows, says, “If you’re sure,” in a way that rankles Harry, but she drops it, lifting one hand to her hair, and Harry tries to forget about it. 

It’s hard, though, when she and Zayn go over to Louis’ flat to meet the boys before heading to the party. Louis greets her with a kiss on the cheek and tangles their fingers together, only letting go when Harry pulls out of reach of where he’s sitting on the couch to dig through his closet, looking for a shirt for Niall, who showed up in a white tank that droops so low Harry can see his nipples. Louis crowds up against her as they walk to Nick’s place, keeps one hand on her waist from behind while they stand at Nick’s door, waiting for her to let them in. Harry’s always been physical with her friends, but this seems like too much. 

“Hello hello,” Nick says when she pulls open the door. Harry watches as her eyes narrow, flit down to Louis’ hand, and Louis tightens his grip, just that little bit, but then Nick is all smiles. “Have you brought everyone you’ve ever met, then, Harry?” 

“No, just my favorites from the last couple days,” Harry says, grinning, and then she holds up the bottles in both her hands, and Nick actually claps her hands together. 

“Perfect,” she says, reaching for them, and then she gestures inside with her head. “C’mon, then, we’re just getting started.” She turns around, leaving the door open and. Harry doesn’t _mean_ to stare at Nick’s bum as she walks away but her dress is so short and so tight and it’s _right there_ , and Harry gets a little distracted, watching as Nick walks into the party, tall heels and short skirt making her legs look like they go on for days. Years. Millennia. 

Harry only snaps out of it when Louis nudges her with one shoulder and then takes her hand in his. “Are we going in?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes her head, trying to come back to herself. 

“Yeah. ‘Course,” she says, smiling at Louis, and then the rest of her friends, trying to ignore the look on Zayn’s face, like maybe she’s just realized something that should have been obvious. “Let’s party,” she says, leading the way in. 

—

Nick starts everyone out with shots in the kitchen, and then she dares Matt to do a Jägerbomb, and then somehow they’re setting up half a dozen of them, and Harry’s in front of one of them and everyone’s cheering and —

It’s _disgusting_ , absolutely horrible, but she manages to chug the whole thing. When she slams the empty cup down her eyes immediately find Nick, who’s got her arms over her head and her mouth wide open, cheering. Her eyes are bright and shining, it feels a bit like it’s just the two of them in the room, and Harry might, maybe, if she’s being at least a little truthful with herself, shiver with happiness. 

And then Louis is right next to her, wrapping around her, arms around her waist. He lifts her off the ground the tiniest bit and she laughs and wraps her arms around his neck and when she looks back up, Nick is gone. 

 

Harry spends most of the night trying to talk to everyone there, most of whom she’s seen around the station but not all of whom she’s actually spoken to. Louis mostly trails after her, always touching her in some small way, and normally she’d love it, but tonight for some reason she wants him _off_. Luckily they run into one of his mates from drama class, James Something, and when he and Louis start talking about something or other, Harry takes the opportunity to slide out from under Louis’ arm, pointing to the kitchen and holding up her empty cup. He nods, a little distracted, and Harry walks off, refills her drink and then looks around. Zayn and Liam are in a seemingly in depth conversation with Ian about Kanye (she’s almost entirely sure she hears the words _North West the person_ come out of Liam’s mouth), Fiona is giggling into Matt’s shoulder while they talk to Dev, and — _bingo_.

“Aimeeeee!” Harry exclaims, skipping across the room and throwing her arms around Aimee, hitching one leg up around her knees as well. Of course, she’s misjudged just how much she’s had to drink, and she’s never that steady on her feet when she’s stone cold sober, so they go down to the floor in front of the sofa in a pile of limbs. 

“Harry,” Aimee says calmly from underneath her, patting Harry’s shoulder.

Harry tries to disentangle herself and somehow ends up flat on her back, Aimee sitting neatly next to her. Aimee even reaches over and rearranges Harry’s skirt so that she’s not flashing anyone, for which Harry is eternally grateful. 

“You’re a good friend,” she says, reaching out and patting Aimee’s knee. 

“Any time, hon,” Aimee says. She sounds like she might be about to laugh. 

“You’ve had enough to drink, I suppose?” 

Harry angles her head towards the voice — also sounding amused; just what exactly is so funny, Harry wonders — to see Nick, gorgeous tall Nick, cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the room and the alcohol, lips still bright red from her lipstick, quiff just starting to droop over her forehead the tiniest bit. She’s grinning like she does when Harry says something particularly funny. 

Harry wants to kiss her.

The realization is sharp, strong. The rest of her thoughts are muddled and fuzzy from the alcohol but this — _this_ she knows to be true. 

She sits up too quickly, and then she has to lean on Aimee to stop the room from spinning. 

“You know this little drunkard then?” Nick asks, and Harry starts to turn to respond but then Aimee does instead. 

“She’s my fashion plate project for the semester.”

“Ah, I had thought she was looking a bit more fashionable, though I’ll admit I’d hoped it was from my influence.”

“You do remember what you looked like when we met, don’t you?” Aimee asks dryly. Nick laughs.

“Not everyone feels the same way about plaid as you do, love.”

Harry frowns. “I _love_ plaid,” she says, and when Nick laughs again she can’t help but smile into Aimee’s shoulder. 

“Yes, and that’s why Aimee has taken you under her wing, I believe,” Nick says, sitting on the sofa just above them and rubbing between Harry’s shoulder blades softly. Harry hums and moves until she’s resting her head on Nick’s knees instead of Aimee’s shoulder. Nick moves her hand up to Harry’s hair, twirling one of the tendrils framing Harry’s face around her finger. 

“Did you do her hair as well?” Nick asks Aimee. 

“No,” Aimee says, just as Harry slurs, “I did it all by m’self.” She’d started the night with a loose bun, a few curls around her face, though now her hair is more curls than bun. 

Nick leans closer to Harry, tightening the curl around her finger enough that Harry can feel a slight tug. Something hot unfurls in her stomach as Nick murmurs, “I like it,” almost directly into Harry’s ear. Harry turns her head until she’s essentially rubbing her face on Nick’s smooth thigh, and Nick lets out a breathless laugh, her face still close enough that Harry feels it more than hears it. Nick moves to sit up and Harry reaches up blindly to grab Nick’s hand with both of her own, trying to keep her there. Nick sighs and Harry can feel her relax, letting all her weight rest on her own lap. 

“I’ll just stay down here with you then,” she says quietly, and Harry smiles. She’s vaguely aware of Aimee getting up behind her, but she focuses on Nick’s breath on her forehead, softly moving the curl draped there with each inhale and exhale. 

“There you are!” Louis is suddenly right next to her, hands under her arms and lifting her up. Harry groans, squeezing Nick’s hand even as Nick sits up and lets her hand drop into her lap. 

“I think it’s time to get home, babe,” Louis continues, and Harry kind of droops onto Louis’ shoulder, half-heartedly nodding. Louis turns her around, heading for the door, but Nick stands up next to them and sets her hand between Harry’s shoulder blades again. 

“Are you leaving?” she asks, just quiet enough for Harry to hear, face close to Harry’s again. Under her cheek, Harry can feel Louis go tense, and the arm he’s got around her waist tightens. Harry slips her hand under his shirt and scratches lightly, reassuringly. 

“Mm-hmm. Time for bed,” Harry says, and, before she loses her nerve, she darts forward and kisses Nick on the cheek. Louis actually tugs her away after that, but as they make one last circuit through the party, telling everyone goodbye, she glances back to see Nick, cheeks more flushed than they have been, touching the spot where Harry kissed her with one hand.

— 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Louis says as they leave Nick’s and head for his flat. 

“I thought it was _wonderful_ ,” Harry says, throwing out both arms and angling her face towards the sky. The clouds have gone and the moon is big and bright and lovely. She smiles up at it, eyes closed, for a few moments, and then puts her arms back down and keeps walking with Louis again. “I quite like all of those people.” 

“I know you do,” Louis says, sounding amused, and then says thoughtfully, “I quite liked a few of them as well.” 

“Did you?” Harry asks happily, looking over at him. He’s got a soft smile on his face and he looks so _happy_ that right then she loves him a lot, so much, the most, and she wraps both her arms around his right arm, tucked in his pocket, and sets her chin on his shoulder. 

“I did,” Louis says quietly, moving his face just enough to kiss her on the cheek. Harry grins. Louis takes his hand out of his pocket to tangle his fingers with her, and they walk back to Louis’ flat hand-in-hand. 

When they get there, Harry’s phone goes off with a new message. When she pulls it out, she sees it’s from Nick. 

_make it home okay, drunky?_

She’s just started to type a response when Louis pulls her phone out of her hand. 

“No drunk texting,” he says faux-sternly. “You’ll thank me for this in the morning.” He tucks it into his bedside drawer and then asks, as he’s heading for the bathroom, “Do you need something to sleep in?” 

Harry nods. “Please,” she says, just before getting hit in the face with one of Louis’ t-shirts. It’s her favorite of his, big and soft and smells like Louis, something spicy and musky and _boy_. 

“Thanks, babe,” she says, stripping down to her knickers and pulling the shirt over her head before slipping into the bed, while Louis messes around in the bathroom. She hears the tap go on and without really thinking about it, pulls her phone out of Louis’ drawer and pulls up her message from Nick. 

_safe and sound :) miss you already :( xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Louis comes to bed just as she’s pressing send, and she holds the phone close to her chest when he says, “Hey!” and tries to get it from her. She ends up rolling over, burying her face in a pillow and crushing the phone to her with both hands buried between her and the bed. 

He finally sighs and says, “Too late now, I suppose. Drink this.” 

She moves just enough so she can drink the glass of water he’s holding out to her while keeping the phone covered where it lays on the bed. “You take such good care of me,” she says when she’s finished the whole glass and he’s set it down on his bedside table. 

“I try,” he says, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead and turn the light off, slipping under the covers next to her. He’s just slipped an arm around her waist when she feels her phone vibrate under her. She pulls it out and pulls up the latest message from Nick.

_:DDDDD_

She falls asleep grinning, phone tucked under her cheek. 

—

The best thing that comes from the party is that now Harry knows _everyone_ at the station, has acted her cheerful drunk self in front of all of them, so she doesn’t feel weird about ducking in even more than she had before. Before long, she’s spending most of her time there, and when she’s not — when she’s fooling around at Louis’, or having girl time with Zayn, or hanging with the whole group supposedly working on their project — she’s usually got her phone out, texting with Fiona or Ian but mostly, mainly, Nick. 

“Say hi to Nick,” Zayn says one night when she’s over at Harry’s, both of them wearing face masks, and Harry’s phone goes. 

“Say hi to Niall,” Harry says back, sticking her tongue out, when Zayn’s phone dings not two seconds later. Zayn smiles and nods. 

“Wait — are you texting Louis?” Zayn asks after a moment. Harry doesn’t look up from her phone to shake her head. 

“It’s just Nick. She keeps texting me pictures of her dog, look how cute she is.” 

Zayn rolls her eyes. “I’ve _seen_ Nick, I don’t need —“ but then she actually looks at Harry’s phone, where Nick’s just texted a picture of Puppy curled up around her arm. “Oh, that is a cute dog.”

“Told you,” Harry says, texting back a message that’s just dog and heart emojis over and over again. “Do you — do you think Nick’s cute, though?” 

Zayn shrugs. “She’s definitely pretty. I think you think she’s cute.” 

Harry feels her cheeks heat up and stares at her phone that much harder, refusing to actually look at Zayn while she has this conversation. “Yeah, I — have you ever — do you think I —“ 

She can’t find the words, and all it’s doing is frustrating her. She groans and drops her phone in her lap, going to bury her face in her hands but stopping at the last minute, remembering that she’s got bright green goo all over it. Of course, this means she has to look up to see Zayn looking at her, curious. 

“Are you going to finish a sentence?” 

Harry thinks for a moment, shakes her head, and then says, “Have you ever thought about kissing a girl?”

“What, like, _any_ girl, or a particular one?” 

God, Harry does not want to have this conversation, and she also wants to hide her face, so she hops up and heads for the sink to wash off her face mask. When she’s done, she turns back to Zayn, face scrubbed clean, and says, confidently, “A particular girl. And maybe, like, more than kissing.”

“I can’t say that I have,” Zayn says slowly, coming over to where Harry’s standing next to the sink. “But maybe you should tell Nick how you feel?” She rinses off her own mask while Harry just stands there, struck dumb. 

“Am I that obvious?” she asks quietly when Zayn shuts the water off, handing her a towel. 

Zayn dries off her face and then nods. “Just a little bit. Like, I can just tell how happy you are when you see her or talk to her? And you _have_ been spending a lot of time at the radio station lately.” 

“Maybe I’ve just fallen for Matt or Ian or somebody,” she says, but even as she’s saying it she’s grinning and trying not to laugh. 

“Right,” Zayn says, actually laughing. “You and Ian’ll make a positively lovely couple.” Her phone goes off again, and she looks at it and frowns. “Are you sure that Louis hasn’t been, like, texting you and you haven’t noticed?”

Harry picks up her phone again to check; there’s a new message from Nick, _you should come over so i’m not that sorry sod drinking wine alone with her dog on a friday night_ , but nothing from Louis, not since earlier that day when she’d texted about plans for the weekend. “No,” she says, looking back up at Zayn. 

“Oh. Oh,” is all Zayn says, typing out a new message quickly. 

“Why?” Harry asks. 

Zayn sighs, putting her phone away and looking up at Harry. “Niall says Louis keeps getting distracted from their game. He’s been texting all night.” 

“Oh. Well, it’s not me.” She looks down at the floor, frowning slightly, and then Zayn’s wrapped an arm around her waist, hooking her chin over Harry’s shoulder.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she says, but Harry just shakes her head and steps out from Zayn’s embrace. 

“It’s fine,” she says, waving a hand. “We’re not dating or anything. He can text whoever he wants to.” She believes it, but there’s still part of her that’s not exactly… _happy_ about this. She pushes that part down, forces a smile, and says, “I thought we were gonna do full makeovers tonight.” 

Zayn just looks at her for a few moments, like she’s trying to see something that Harry’s trying to keep hidden, but then she deflates and smiles back. “Yeah. Let’s get glammed up.” 

Harry texts Nick back quickly while Zayn’s pulling the essentials out of her makeup bag — _zayn’s over and we’re having girl time. sorry :( :( :( :(_ — and then turns her phone off. 

 

While Zayn’s leaning over Harry, steadily doing her winged eyeliner, her phone goes off for what’s probably the millionth time that night, and Harry says, “So are you official yet?” 

“Don’t move,” Zayn says, but she’s smiling. As soon as she leans back to admire her work or check that both Harry’s eyes are even or something, Harry leans forward and wraps her arms around Zayn’s waist, head tucked under her chin. 

“I’m so happy for you both,” she says, and Zayn pats her on the back. 

“Thank you,” she says, and then she pushes Harry away from her so she can check her phone. “Oh,” she says, cheeks tinting red. “He wants me to come over. Says Louis just left and now he’s alone and — anyway, he wants me to come over.” She flicks her eyes over to Harry, and then looks back at her phone. “I’ll just tell him we’re busy,” she says, moving to type something.

“No, don’t,” Harry says, reaching over to turn her phone back on. “You should go see him. Lou’s probably already texted me anyway.” 

“Really? Are you _sure_?” 

Harry nods. “Yes, I’m sure! Go see your boyfriend.” 

“Okay,” Zayn says, and the grin on her face while she texts Niall is big and happy and all Harry needs to know she’s made the right decision. Her phone beeps when it comes back on, signaling a message, and it’s not Louis but it _is_ Nick. 

_bring her over with you. puppy and i are both girls, too, we’re good at girl time._

_change of plans_ , she types back, waving as Zayn leaves her room. _it’s just me. can i still come over?_

 _bring wine_ , is all Nick’s reply says. Harry grins and heads for Nick’s flat, forgetting that she’s wearing spectacularly heavy eye makeup until Nick pulls open the door. 

“Ooh, look at you,” Nick says, taking the bottle of wine Harry’s holding out but not looking at it. She’s wearing sweatpants and a practically threadbare Dr. Dre tee, her hair completely without product, looking soft and floppy around her face. Harry wants to run her hands through it. “I like the fancy eyeliner.” 

“Zayn did it,” Harry says, ducking her head, and then looking back up at Nick through her eyelashes. “Is it too much?” 

“I mean, it’s a bit much just for me in me joggers,” Nick says, starting to grin. “Feel like I should at least do my hair up or something.”

“No,” Harry says immediately. “I like your hair like this.” 

Nick raises her eyebrows and just says, “Okay. You wanna come in?” 

Harry nods, and follows Nick in. She heads straight for the kitchen, waving Harry to the sofa, where she sits next to a curled up Puppy, who wags her tail twice and settles her head on Harry’s knee before closing her eyes again. Nick shows up after a minute with a wine glass and the bottle Harry’s brought over open. She fills the glass and hands it to Harry, and then refills her own glass, sitting on the coffee table in front of them, and sits back, close enough to Harry that she can feel her body heat. It’s nice, and she smiles as she takes a sip of her wine. 

“What are we watching?” she asks, and Nick shrugs. 

“I’ve just had _Great British Bake-Off_ on all night, but we can switch to something else if you like.”

“This is good,” Harry says, and Nick smiles softly at her and they both turn to watch. 

They’re on their second episode when Harry feels her phone buzz, and when she pulls it out she’s got a message from Louis. 

_what are you doing? wanna come over?_

Harry looks over at Nick, pretending like she’s not paying any attention, and then types back, _just think i’m gonna go to bed now_. She’s not sure why she’s lying to Louis, but she knows that she wants to keep what she’s doing right now to herself, for at least a little while longer. 

Louis sends back a sad face, and then: _its early. are you sure?_

_yeah. tired. been a long week._

_sleep well, babe. call if you want to talk or anything else ;)_

Harry snorts a soft laugh at that, and Nick says, “What’s so funny?”

“Just Louis,” Harry says, waving her phone, before typing out _you’re terrible._

_you love it xxx_

Harry laughs again, knowing the third x was definitely deliberate, but she doesn’t have anything to add so she just slips her phone back in her pocket. When she looks up, Nick’s got this soft little smile on her face that Harry doesn’t think she’s ever seen before. 

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Nick says. “It’s just nice, innit? That you like your boyfriend so much.” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say for a moment, sitting next to this person she wants to kiss so much talking about this person she does kiss on a regular basis, and finally just says, “Lou’s not my boyfriend.” 

Nick frowns. “He’s not? But the two of you, at the party, you seemed so….” she trails off, makes some shape with her hands that might mean _together_ or might mean _wavy_ ; she’s just flapping them about. 

“He is my best friend,” Harry starts slowly. “And we do, erm, fool around a little,” she’s going red again; she doesn’t think she’s ever blushed as much as she has since she met Nick Grimshaw, “but he’s not my proper _boyfriend_. It’s just very…casual.” She makes the same hand movement Nick did, and Nick rolls her eyes and shoves her, lightly, on the shoulder, before turning back to the television. 

“Well, it’s nice that you’ve got _someone_ anyway, I guess. Give you a good proper dicking once in a while.” 

Harry practically chokes on her own tongue. Nick grins at her, wide and a bit lewd. Not willing to give Nick the satisfaction of the last word, Harry says, “Well, he is a footballer. You know what they say about athletes.” 

“They’re all loud and dumb? I can see that for Tomlinson, definitely.” Nick takes a sip of her wine. Harry smirks.

“Good body control. Conditioned to go for _hours_ ,” and Nick splutters into her drink, spilling a bit of it out of her glass.

“He can play the piano, too,” Harry continues. “So he’s good with his fingers.” 

Nick coughs, flashing Harry a thumbs up as she tries to blot the wine on the front of her shirt.

“And you’ve had the pleasure of exchanging verbal barbs with him, you _know_ how quick and nimble his tongue is.” 

And that’s it — Nick’s laughing so hard she tumbles off the sofa. Harry can’t do anything but grin. 

 

They’re halfway through their second bottle of wine, watching some random romantic comedy that’d come on after _GBBO_ , when Harry says, “I think Louis might be cheating on me?”

Nick freezes where she’s been reaching to refill her wine glass, and just looks at Harry, eyes almost comically wide. 

Harry shakes her head, turning back to the movie. “That’s dumb. He can’t be cheating on me because we’re not dating. We’re just friends.”

“He should still _tell_ you, though,” Nick says slowly, and Harry hears her set her glass back down and then she’s moving just a bit closer to Harry, tentatively, like she’s worried Harry will run off or something. “What makes you think he’s cheating?” 

Harry shrugs. “He’s been texting someone a lot lately? And that’s normal, I guess, but, like, tonight, Zayn said Niall said he was texting someone a lot, and Niall thought it was me, I guess because Louis was really happy and distracted about it, and it seemed like he was talking to me, but. He wasn’t.” She shrugs again. Her voice is going rough and she can feel tears behind her eyes, and she doesn’t know _why_.

“Oh, _love_ ,” Nick says, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders, and she immediately moves to tuck her head against Nick’s chest. 

“I want him to be happy,” Harry says, and she can hear the tears in her voice now. “He’s my best friend, you know, and I love him, I just. I just wish he’d _told_ me.”

“Yeah, he should definitely tell you,” Nick says, rubbing Harry’s upper arm. “But you don’t know for sure that anything’s happening, so maybe you shouldn’t worry about it right now, yeah?”

Harry nods, head still on Nick’s chest, and then says, in a quiet voice, “Can I stay here tonight?” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Nick says, and she squeezes Harry’s shoulders just a bit and keeps her arm there, keeping Harry tucked against her chest. Harry lets the warmth and the wine and Nick’s soft breathing wash over her, and the next thing she knows Nick is shaking her awake. 

“Sorry to wake you up just to go to bed,” she says, making a face at herself. “But I thought you might want to wash off some of that makeup?” 

Harry breathes in, deep, and sits up, trying to wake up enough to move. After a moment, she nods, and Nick leads her through her bedroom into the en suite bathroom, and then goes back to her room. 

“Do you need something to sleep in?” she calls after a few minutes, and Harry manages to call back, “Yeah, thanks.” 

When she leaves the bathroom, face freshly scrubbed but still sporting the tiniest shadow of eyeliner, Nick hands her a tee and says, “Here’s a top, you want pants?” 

Harry nods and starts pulling down her jeans. 

“Er — don’t you want to change in the bathroom?” 

Harry shrugs. “I live in a dorm,” she says, like it explains everything. She changes in front of her roommate all the time and right now all she wants is to be in bed. Nick’s bed looks like the comfiest bed ever. Nick turns around abruptly and grabs another top out of the drawer before leaving. Harry just keeps undressing, changing her jeans, tank top and plaid button-up for a big comfy tee and sweats that almost slip from her hips, putting her clothes in a neat pile next to the bed before crawling up into Nick’s bed and getting under the covers. 

She’s almost asleep when she hears, “Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” Nick crawls into bed beside her. “How’d you know I don’t want that side? What makes you think you can even sleep in here, maybe I want you to kip on the couch.” She falls back into the pillows, tugging the duvet just a bit closer to her. Harry wishes she could see her right now but it’s dark. 

“Do you want me to move?” Harry asks, not really feeling like moving. 

“No,” Nick says, and laughs, rolling onto her side, her back to Harry. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah. You’re a good cheer-er upper,” Harry says with a yawn. She presses her face into the pillow. It smells a bit like Nick’s perfume, like vanilla and some kind of spice. It’s sharp and just a little bit sweet, quite like Nick herself. Nick yawns too. 

“I am a good cheer-er upper,” Nick repeats softly, and then goes quiet long enough for Harry to nearly be asleep again. She only jerks back awake when Nick shifts again and she hears the ding of Nick’s phone getting put on the charger. “Harry?” Nick’s voice is quiet and weird, not like anything she’s heard before from her. 

“Yeah?”

“Um, this is — it’s weird, but, if you wake up before me and, like…leave, will you let me know?”

Harry’s not sure how to respond.

“Harry?” She’s even softer now, and Harry feels terrible for not answering right away.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem, Grimmy,” she says, shifting just a bit closer. If she stretched even the smallest amount, she could brush Nick’s back. 

“Thanks. ‘Night, Harry,” she says, still sounding weirdly small and wholly unfamiliar.

“Yeah. ‘Night, Nick.” She tucks one finger under the edge of Nick’s pillow and drifts off to sleep. 

—

Harry wakes up to the sun streaming across her face. She and Nick have drifted closer during the night; she’s actually on Nick’s pillow, and Nick’s turned over so that she’s facing Harry. She’s still sleeping, and while Harry is starving and needs to wee, she doesn’t really want to leave — doesn’t want to leave Nick sleeping alone, especially after what she said last night but mostly, she just wants to watch Nick’s face, open and peaceful in sleep. As she watches, Nick blinks awake and startles when she sees Harry so close. Harry laughs and rolls onto her back, on her own pillow.

“Sorry,” she says, looking up at the ceiling. “’S probably creepy to wake up like that.” 

“A bit,” Nick says, but when Harry looks back over at her, she’s smiling softly. “But nice, too. Thanks for staying.” She reaches out and squeezes Harry’s hand quickly before dropping it. 

“Anytime,” Harry says, smiling, and then: “Do you have anything for breakfast? I’m starving.” 

Nick makes a face. “I’m not sure, actually. I usually grab something on my way to the station.”

“I’ll find something,” Harry says, and then stretches and practically rolls out of the bed and pads into the bathroom.

“You don’t have to stay,” Nick calls after a minute. 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“No,” Nick says shortly, quickly, and Harry smiles. She washes her hands and leans against the door to the bathroom, looking on as Nick stretches and rolls around in bed, obviously still waking up. 

“Then I’ll stay,” Harry finally says, and Nick looks up at her, soft smile on her lips. 

“Good,” she says quietly, and Harry only knows it’s been said because she’s watching Nick’s mouth. 

 

Harry finds enough ingredients in Nick’s kitchen to make a proper fry-up for the two of them, and Nick protests weakly that she doesn’t have to do that until Harry finally shoves a bite into Nick’s mouth, which makes her moan and say, “That’s it. You’re moving in.” 

They eat breakfast on Nick’s sofa, leaning against either arm with their legs tangled together in the middle. It’s nice and lazy, and Harry doesn’t even think about anything outside of Nick’s flat until Nick’s looking around for Puppy’s lead, getting ready to take her on a walk, and Harry’s phone goes off with a message from Louis. 

_where are you? i’m at yours_ is all it says, but it reminds her of last night, of Louis texting someone else all night long, and she looks up from her phone, ready to tell Nick that she has to go, but Nick’s already looking at her like she knows. 

“Back to the real world?” she says wryly, and Harry nods. 

“This was really nice, Nick. We should definitely, like, do it again, or something.” 

“Hopefully with less crying.” 

“Well, yeah.” Harry pulls at her bottom lip with two fingers, and then surges forward to wrap her arms around Nick’s waist. Nick is still just that little bit taller than her, even when they’re both in trainers, and Harry takes the opportunity to tuck her head into Nick’s neck. 

“Okay, Curly, enough,” Nick says after a couple minutes, longer than Harry expected but not as long as she wants, and tugs a curl as Harry pulls back. She smiles, and sounds uncertain when she says, “I’ll see you bright and early Monday?” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Harry says, nodding, and the resultant smile on Nick’s face is small but real. She clips the lead onto Puppy’s collar and says, “I’ll walk you out, yeah?” 

Harry texts Louis as they’re leaving, a quick _i’ll be there soon_ , and he doesn’t respond, but when she lets herself into her room, Louis is sitting back on her bed, talking to her roommate. 

“Hi, Louis,” she says, and he shoots her a tight smile and focuses on his phone. “Sarah, can you give us a minute?” she asks, and Sarah nods, gathering her stuff together. 

“I should go see what Rob’s doing anyway.” Rob’s her boyfriend, where she spends roughly 90% of her time, and so Harry just nods and stays where she is, standing awkwardly next to her desk, silent, until Sarah shuts the door behind her. 

“Where were you?” Louis asks as soon as it closes, and Harry looks up from where she’s been staring at her shoes. 

“Are you asking because you really care, or are you just bored because the girl you’re texting is busy?” It’s harsh, sharper than she normally is, and she’d feel a little bad about it but for the way Louis’ cheeks redden and betray that she’s hit the nail on the head. 

“I’m asking,” he starts, slow but with an edge, “because when I texted you last night you said you were going to bed early, and this morning Zayn tells me when she left you were talking about coming to see me. So where exactly _were_ you?” 

“I was busy,” she says, and she toes off her shoes and pulls off her plaid button-up, forgetting, just for a minute, that she’d left with Nick’s Britney Spears concert tee on, the same one she’d slept in last night. 

“Busy with _Nick_ , I see,” Louis says, and now all attempts at civility is gone. 

“What do you _care_ , Lou? Don’t you have somebody to text?” 

“We’re not dating!” Louis yells, and it’s enough of a blow up that she thinks it’s something he’s been worrying about for a while, and he maybe doesn’t even believe it. She doesn’t say anything, just sets her jaw and crosses her arms over her chest, and that’s when he says, tentatively, “Are we?” 

She deflates, uncrosses her arms and sinks onto the end of her bed, near him but not touching at all. 

“No,” she says softly. “We’re not, but we are more than friends. Or we were, maybe?” She looks over at him and he’s looking straight back at her, just as uncertain as she feels, but also _Louis_ , her best friend, and all she can do is crawl up the bed into his arms. He wraps his arms around her shoulders as she tucks her head against his chest, arms around his waist. 

“We’re definitely more than friends,” he says softly, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head. “You’re my absolute best friend, one of my favorite people in the whole entire world. No one could replace you as that.” 

She squeezes his waist, takes a steadying breath, and says, “Okay. So tell me about this girl.” 

“Her name’s Eleanor,” he says almost immediately, and for a split second Harry wants to push him away, yell at him for finding someone else but he just sounds so _happy_ , underneath his trepidation at telling Harry about it, that she just _can’t_. Plus, she wasn’t lying to Zayn or Nick when she talked about their relationship; she doesn’t love him like that, doesn’t think she ever can, no matter how many orgasms he gives her. 

“She’s funny and smart and I dunno, I really like talking to her.” He shrugs, and Harry moves with him; she looks up at him, his face soft while he talks about her.

“And is she fit?” she asks after a moment, and he flushes. “Is she?” Harry sits up, enough that Louis’ arms drop from around her shoulder and she can poke him in his ribs to get him to talk. “C’mon, you’ve gotta tell me, I’m your best friend.” 

“Okay, okay, fine!” he shouts, laughing. “She’s bloody gorgeous, is that what you want to hear?”

“Good,” Harry says, grinning. “I expect nothing less than that for my best friend. Do I get to meet her?” 

“If you want,” he says. “Although I think you may have met her already, she was at Nick’s party.” 

Harry makes a face. “I don’t remember her.” 

Louis shrugs again. “That’s okay. I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. We’ll plan something with the group, yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’ve gotta pull her aside and tell her what’ll happen if she breaks your heart.” 

Louis freezes. “You won’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Louis groans. “That’s it, you’re never meeting her. We’re running away together so you can never embarrass me!”

“No, don’t,” Harry says softly, seriously, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and holding on. 

“Oh, babe,” Louis says, going serious as well, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. “I never would. You’ve got me for life.” 

Harry nods, keeping her gaze on her hand pulling at his shirt. 

“‘Sides,” he continues, and she can hear the teasing edge coming back into his voice, “I’ve gotta see what happens with you and Nick, don’t I?”

Her eyes snap up to his at that. He’s smiling, teasing, but his eyes are warm. “What about me and Nick?” she asks quietly.

“I think you should probably talk to her about that,” he says softly, like he knows she needs reassuring. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and says, “If it makes you feel better, I think she probably feels the same.” 

“Yeah?” Harry asks, suddenly feeling something like hope in her chest. It’s happy, lighter than what she’s felt before, thinking about Nick and Louis and all her feelings all mixed together. 

“Oh, yeah,” Louis says. “She’s never really stopped glaring at me whenever I touch you.” 

“That doesn’t really mean anything,” Harry protests, but she knows that it _does_ , or at least, she hopes it does. 

“You should probably talk to her about it,” Louis says, wrapping his arm around Harry again and pulling her down to lie next to him in bed, their legs tangled together. “But first, we’re going to have a lie-in. A lazy Saturday. Okay?”

Harry hums and snuggles closer. “Sounds good.” 

—

Louis leaves about six to get ready for dinner with Eleanor, plans made after he’d asked Harry if she’d mind. She’d rolled her eyes, told him to take the girl on a proper date already, and he’d somehow managed to seem even _happier_ after Eleanor had agreed to dinner. He kisses Harry’s forehead before he leaves, hands on either side of her head, and she holds on to his elbows and closes her eyes while he does so. It feels like a goodbye of sorts, and it is, really; even though they’ll still see each other every day, probably spend enough waking time together to bug everyone around them, their relationship is changing, shifting into an entirely new thing, and so Louis might take a little too long with his lips on Harry’s forehead, and Harry might hold onto his elbows just a little too tightly, but they are saying goodbye to something. 

After Harry closes the door after Louis, she thinks about texting Aimee or Zayn, but Aimee’s got Ian and Zayn’s got Niall, and besides, she knows who she wants to talk to. She thinks about calling Nick, but she can’t actually imagine that she’ll be able to keep her voice steady and she just kind of wants to see Nick in person already. 

So she pulls up the last message she got from her ( _hope everything’s going okay with the real world. call me if you need to talk_ ) and types out a new message. 

_i know i was just there, but i was wondering if i could stop by again tonight?_

She presses send, tosses her phone on her bed, and scrubs her hands over her face. This is it. It’s a waiting game now. She thinks for a minute about maybe turning her phone off so she doesn’t feel the itch of anticipation, turning up some music really loud and having a dance party for one, but then her phone dings. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, and then dives for it. 

_you’re welcome anytime. puppy misses you when you’re not here_

And suddenly, Harry just _knows_. Puppy doesn’t miss her, _Nick_ misses her, Nick who always says she doesn’t want a relationship, she’s no good at them, but is really just an insecure mess of vulnerabilities, not wanting Harry to leave her alone in the middle of the night and hiding behind her dog when she makes any sort of emotional declaration, even something as small as missing Harry when she’s gone. 

Maybe Harry’s seen too many romantic comedies, but she doesn’t quite walk calmly to Nick’s flat, rushing perhaps a little much, and knocks hard and fast on Nick’s door when she gets there. She hops from foot to foot as she waits for Nick to appear, and then she hears Puppy barking inside, and Nick shushing her, and she goes calm all over — she can do this. 

“Hey, Hazza,” Nick says with a soft smile when she pulls open the door, keeping Puppy back with one foot. “You doing okay?” 

Harry nods and then, without thinking about it, leans forward and kisses Nick. Nick makes a soft little surprised noise, but then she’s kissing Harry back, one hand wrapping around Harry’s neck. Nick’s lips taste sweet and fruity, and Harry likes it so much she makes this _noise_ in the back of her throat she’s never made before and runs her tongue along Nick’s lips; Nick tightens her grip on Harry’s neck and opens her mouth under Harry’s, but Harry wants to keep tasting her lips so she sucks Nick’s bottom lip into her mouth. This time it’s Nick’s turn to moan, and it sends a jolt of arousal through Harry so strong she has to pull away, remembering that she’s still standing on Nick’s doorstep. 

Nick looks at her with a cute little concerned frown, but her eyes are sparkling and when Harry grins she grins back. 

“Alright?” Harry says, and Nick licks her lips and nods, slowly, before stepping back and holding her door open. 

“Whaddya say you come in and we try that again?” 

Harry kisses her again, just a quick peck on the lips, and then moves past her into the flat.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the fade to black :( :( :(
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](http://swamiface.tumblr.com) if you want to yell at me.


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